The Whirlwind and the Thorn Tree
by Spylace
Summary: Stephanie looked as pious as a nun in the front, hands gathered and her cornflower eyes rolling like she hadn't suggested a million times already that the only reason anyone visited his church wasn't for sermons.


1

"You're losing your touch B." Jason smirked as he set fire to the candles at the foot of the corpus, knowing there was very little he could do against a literal demon king. "I mean golly, coming to me for favors?"

Thank God he was the only one at church right now. Stephanie had begged off after a day of scrubbing, her pruned fingers twitching every time she so much as caught sight of a dust mote.

"What will your minions think?"

"It's a delicate matter." B explained as he observed his surroundings, the stained glass and cut stone walls.

Jason bristled. It might have been the middle of Crime Alley but it was still Gotham and rent was at a premium. Considering that they were on top of a Hellmouth, he was very proud of what he had accomplished, toxic clouds of lemony soap and all, thank you very much.

"I thought you guys _liked_ blood and mayhem."

"In moderation." The demon corrected, eyebrows furrowing when a spot of holy water landed on his oxfords and sizzled like bacon on pan. It was frightening how human B seemed at times, subtle shifts in expressions, the _blinking_. Hell, that was the reason was B was so dangerous. Even now, with B right in front of him, he couldn't bear invoke the demon's true name.

B smiled as the candles dimmed in his passing.

"Good help is hard to find. Dick needs discipline."

Jason laughed.

"You have a son named Dick? Seriously?"

"It's not his real name." B pointed out dryly.

Jason sobered quick. "I still don't understand why you need me. I know you have Zatanna wrapped around your fingers. Diana still owes you favors and heaven..." His voice became bitter. "Heaven's always had a soft spot for you."

Before B, the church seemed lessened somehow, small and dank like a private cage. Jason felt his resistance crumpling and knew his answer even before he'd said it. He couldn't deny B. Not then, not now. From the way B's eyes crinkled, he knew it too.

"He'd better not make a mess." Jason groused, as though he was promising to take care of a pet dog rather than a fully-grown demon spawn. "I have a system."

B nodded, more in amusement than anything else.

"I don't want him making deals, possessing people or I don't know, practicing other socially retarded behaviors."

"Might I remind you that this used to be a Hellmouth?" B said wonderingly.

"No you may not." After the petulant reply, Jason added in a brittle voice. "And I want you to leave me alone after this. Enough. I scratch your back and you scratch mine but you and me, we're done professionally."

Immediately, all the air trapped in his lungs poured from his mouth and nostrils in a misty funnel. The light went out, frost spiraling across the floor in branching patterns like many-limbed snowflakes.

"Are you sure?"

His mouth went dry when a hand landed on the small of his back, cool and proprietary. Jason wasn't a small man by any means but he might as well have been Tinkerbelle dancing to the demon king's tune. B felt bigger somehow in the shadows like this, in his blind spot, somewhere unseen.

Jason skin prickled as though having a torch fire brushed over the fine hairs.

"There are benefits to my patronage." A finger looped around the piebald streak in his hair. "I can offer you protection. I can offer you a way out. I can make sure Trigon never touches you again."

His breath slammed back into his lungs.

Struggling with his paralyzed diaphragm, Jason gritted out "I'm sure."

B made a small sigh of disappointment.

"As you wish."

But the hand across his lower back did not move and Jason squirmed, discomfited.

"Dude, space."

But his words were breaking apart, syllables barely clinging together as they tumbled past his teeth. B kissed his lips like he was Julia Roberts or some pretty damsel in a Victorian novella, swooning in her whale-bone corset. God, wasn't that a disturbing thought.

"There are ways." B chided and Jason thought _of course there was_. Of course there was a catch to this stupid, stupid scheme. "To mark a soul, label it unfit for a reaper's touch. When the time comes, I would be honored to welcome you to the family."

Jason tore himself away from B's grip.

"We both know how well that worked last time."

It felt like heartbreak.

"Until then" He snarled, fingers slick around a silver knife he kept up his sleeve. "Hands off the merchandise."

2

Dick arrived the next night to Stephanie's surprise. He had forgotten to warn her and she was hanging out, trying to see if she could badger him into a rawhead sighting without being forced to weed the garden.

Jason sprinted from the showers, a towel offering him a bare modicum of modesty and foam dripping behind his ears when he saw a feline form stretched out on the pews, so vulgar and beautiful that it took his breath away. He knew that shape. It might have been forced beneath a veneer of human skin but he knew what lay beneath and that scared him.

"You must be Father Todd." The demon purred in a voice that went straight to his dick, its gaze decisively approving as it traveled down from his damp locks to the rash of goose bumps on his arms.

Cassandra burst in just then, brandishing a sawed-off like an extension of herself. As satisfying it would have been to see it pumped full of rock salt and shrapnel, he couldn't renegade on his deal with B. Also, if B found his son a handful, he didn't want to see what Dick was like above ground. He hurriedly placed himself in between.

"I can explain."

Dick chose that moment to grope him.

3

"A deal?" Cassandra asked with guileless brown eyes, her head tilted as though contemplating such a thing.

If only she knew.

Jason shook his head.

"Not like that." At the disbelieving snorts he sulkily explained. "I'm doing B a favor. He wants me to watch his son because he's sick of getting the blood out of the carpet or something."

"And while you play Super Nanny, what's he doing for you?"

"I got him to leave me alone."

"For good?" Stephanie asked in an awed voice.

"For good." Jason confirmed and conveniently left out the part where B had all but told him that if he wanted to, he could snatch Jason's soul back to hell where he wanted, when he wanted.

"Demons" Cassandra said sternly. "Untrustworthy."

"It'll be fine." Jason tried to assure her.

Ever the optimist, Cassandra frowned.

4

He was in hell, on the rack then off. The first soul he ever carved was a piece of shit that was shot in the head after his wife caught him raping their daughter. He couldn't remember why he ever thought it was wrong to cut sinners on display. It had taken him nearly five years to pick up the knife.

Jason opened his eyes.

Dick lounged beside him, staring off at the opposite wall in disinterest. A lone thumb circled his slick forehead and he unconsciously pushed into it, wanting the pressure, hoping for pain.

Sadly, his skin didn't bubble or peel off. But Dick's thumb left a perfectly oval imprint across his left temple that would linger for days after, drawing curious looks from the parishioners, Cass and Steph.

"Do you think he'll be mad?" Dick asked softly. "That I touched something of his without permission?"

"I doubt he'd care." Jason rasped, rolling out of bed. "But feel free if you want to lose a hand."

5

His church wasn't so much one as it was a refuge for supernatural victims. When someone pounded on the doors at ass o' clock in the morning just as he was about to turn in, he knew it was one of those days.

He quickly threw back the mug of cold sludge that could have passed for coffee in the seventh circle of hell before ushering the people in, three adults and a boy held in between.

The boy was a mass of screaming, twitching limbs. Any other city in the world and it might have merited attention from passersby, at least a quick call to 911. But not in Gotham, not here.

"What happened?" Jason demanded when the boy recoiled from him, the stink of burnt hair wafting from where they briefly touched.

Immediately, one of the women, the younger one, fell weeping across the floor, hitting it with her dainty fists. He couldn't understand all of what she said through the sobs, but the expressions painted across the man's and the older woman's faces were words enough.

The boy was possessed. They attempted an exorcism. They had failed.

The boy cursed at him in a dead language and as though summoned, Dick appeared, looking pleased as punch. The flickering made his eyes seem like cat's eye sapphires, just as impenetrable and dark.

"One of yours?" He snarled in a clipped voice.

"No" Dick said vaguely, looking surprised. "No, not mine." he repeated after a moment and frowned. "But I can't get a read on him."

The young woman gave a moan of despair.

Ignoring the other two, Jason went to her side and knelt down.

"Ma'am? Listen to me ma'am. Your son, he's badly hurt."

The woman shook her head.

"I told them. I told them, I told them we should come to you. But she said she could do it. She said she knew and I..."

Believed them. Believed her.

"I know." Jason soothed, albeit clumsily. It was like trying to pick up a hummingbird and fix its many hurts. "You did the right thing bringing him here."

Dick watched in fascination as though staring through a looking glass. He'd seen him watch Looney Tunes with the same expression. Like he couldn't get enough of it.

"Your son's hurt." He repeated gently. "He might not make it."

The younger woman's wails grew even louder. The elder barked her harsh recriminations, crossing her arms beneath her sagging breasts, her rain coat threatening to burst.

"You shut up." Jason snarled, helping the younger woman to her feet. He turned to Dick. "Can't you do anything?"

Dick held up his hands. "Look ma, no powers."

He let out a frustrated sigh and turned to the mother.

"You have two choices. If we do it now, he might die. But if we wait, it will hurt him even more. It'll hurt him in his soul."

"He might die?" The woman asked in a broken voice.

"He might live." Jason countered.

The woman nodded.

"Do it."

6

_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_  
_omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio_  
_infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,_  
_omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._

Dick turned away, his chest flayed black with each word.

The boy died in his arms.

7

The day after was obscenely sunny as though mocking him for his failures. The light that the boy would never see filtered down from the rafters, blowing past the stained glass in a sign of power that hadn't been present during the exorcism.

The funeral was today. The boy's family was impoverished, out of state, wanting a fresh start for themselves. A cynical part of him whispered that it was better this way, one less mouth to feed. But the boy's mother hadn't thought it that way, even as the body was salted and burned, a handful of ash at the bottom of a pyre, in hopes of peace and resurrection.

She thanked him profusely though he hadn't deserved it.

He hadn't deserved anything.

"Still sulking?"

"A kid died today." Jason bit back as Dick rose from the shadows. "Give me a break."

The demon shrugged and walked towards the center of the room, staring down at what appeared to be world's most fortified manhole.

"Huh, is that what it looks like?"

Jason looked up.

"You've never seen a Hellmouth before?"

"Not from this side. I was sheltered as a child."

Jason suppressed a snort of laughter at the non sequitur. Dick stared expectantly.

"What?"

"Nothing, you look nice. Nice—r, when you smile."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

Dick bounced on his heels.

"But you're special Father. B _trusts_ you."

Jason stopped the hand that was sliding up his thigh. A brutal twist later and Dick was still smiling but at a safe distance.

"Did you need something?"

"The blonde one and the little huntress wants you. Something about morning service."

Jason realized the time. "Crap." He hastily got to his feet, staggering when his head spun from sudden lightheadedness. His vision whited out and by the time shapes and color returned, Dick was at his side, a firm grip on his elbow as he took half his weight.

Once was certain he wouldn't fall flat on his face, he pushed the demon away.

"Are you alright Father?" Dick asked sleekly, leading him towards the stairs. "You seem unwell."

"Your fault." He groaned. "Seriously, is B never taking you back?"

"A deal's a deal." Dick said with false cheer. "You should know that better than anyone."

8

Jason started the morning service and noted that attendance had risen while actual attention paid to what he was saying remained deplorably low. The parishioners, what few could be gathered on a Sunday, were gathered around the newest addition to his church, passing whispers back and forth like ninth grade math.

Stephanie looked as pious as a nun in the front, hands gathered and her cornflower eyes rolling like she hadn't suggested a million times already that the only reason anyone visited his church _wasn't _for sermons.

Gee wiz, it wasn't like he was trying to help people or anything. He couldn't exactly run off every time he wanted, even if there was a zombie behind door number two.

But a startlingly large crowd had formed by lunch. Residents of Crime Alley weren't known for their adverse curiosity. Most of them kept their heads down, kept their noses clean in front of persons of authority.

"I thought B told you no powers." Jason whisper-shouted as he extracted Dick from a matronly embrace.

"I'm not!" Dick hissed back, obviously affected by the enthusiastic greeting.

"You can't go around seducing old ladies willy-nilly, turn it down!"

For once, Dick looked terrified.

"I can't!"

"Father Todd." Widow Franks turned her formidable attention towards him. He might have flinched, just a teensy-bit. Any sort of mocking from Dick's end quickly evaporated when she asked, "Why haven't you introduced us to this fine young man?"

Dick eeped.

Cogs began turning inside his head. He flashed Mrs. Franks a slow, trustworthy smile that had most lonely socialites eating out of his hand when the donation box made its rounds.

"You're right Mrs. Franks. How inconsiderate of me." Jason said as he firmly placed Dick in front like a life-sized body armor he was meant to be. "Allow me to introduce Richard..."

9

"There, there" Steph cooed like a fretting hen, obviously having too much fun with this unexpected weakness in a demon's psyche. "She didn't mean it."

"She did!" Dick wailed inconsolably as though the world was ending, wedged firmly beneath the modest dining table. "She said, _she said_...!"

"Yes...?" The blonde encouraged.

"She said I WAS LIKE AN ANGEL!"

And Dick promptly burst into tears. Tears that ate through the linoleum but still, tears.

Jason couldn't help it, he laughed.

"Jason, you could be more supportive!" Stephanie scolded, a noticeable twitch to upper lip.

"Wrong" Cassandra announced. "He is a demon."

"I know!" Dick shrieked, beyond all consolation. "I will kill that old bat, I will rip her heart out and I will..."

"...Will do no such thing." Jason cleared his throat and coughed several times for a good measure. "It was a complement Dick. She didn't mean any harm."

"Some priest you are!" Dick accused indignantly. "You just threw me at her!"

"A strapping young demon like you?" Jason said, dry as dust. "You were perfectly safe."

"Well" Stephanie chirped as she handed out servings of mac and cheese. "At least we know what to do next time a demon ends up in our neighborhood."

10

Two weeks after Dick arrived; a couple teenagers decided that a church was the perfect launch pad for their budding careers as artists. After a stern lecture, he made them promise to come to church on Sundays. Idle minds made easy targets for demons.

"You should kill them." Dick suggested as he painstakingly peeled the paint off brick by brick.

"No" Jason answered firmly. "I can't kill every idiot in town, that's half the population."

"Only half?" Dick teased. "Anyway, I could help."

"No you will not. The only thing you're allowed to do is to sit and watch."

"Oh" the demon crooned, making bird shit much sexier than it actually was. "I will watch padre, no doubts about that."

Jason threw his toilet brush at him.

11

"What's the point of having two huntresses on call if you plan on doing everything yourself?" Dick grumbled.

Normally Jason would have gone alone. But he didn't trust Dick with the girls, with anyone, not now and not ever. Dick was his responsibility, his deal with B and unfortunately his partner for his latest hunt.

"Steph is new. Kitsune are hardcore. And Cass, well that's another can of worms."

"Oh?" Dick asked, intrigued at the hint of salacious gossip.

Jason scowled. "She's... immune."

Dick blinked. "Immune?"

He kicked the car.

"Most supernatural things don't notice her unless he's already got a silver knife in their back. She's good with the physical, salt-and-burn, that kind of stuff. But sometimes, you need things to know you're there before you can kill them."

12

"Not so tough are you?" Jason panted as he swept his hair back, the stubborn pied streak and all, blood wetting his palms as he checked Dick over.

The incubus was hissing like a kettle boiled over as black scales stole over his skin, iridescence rippling down every inch of him like the curtains of an aurora. The torn flesh melted back smoothly like an oil slick. The few bones that were misaligned popped back into place.

"That was not a kitsune."

"Nope"

The demon shot him a disgusted look.

"You're enjoying this!"

"Everyone needs a hobby." He said philosophically as his lungs began to burn, his muscles screaming from overexertion.

He really needed to work out more.

"Have to keep my girlish figure somehow."

They needed to dispose of the body before the cops arrived. Killing monsters was one thing but things like vampires, ghouls and werewolves looked too human for it to look good on paper. He could hear the sirens now. Or maybe that was just his heartbeat.

"We need to dump the body."

He tried to get up and failed.

"Oh Father." When had Dick moved? He was on top of him now, pressed flush against his body. There was a liquid squelch between their stomachs, heat pooling in obscene arcs. "I can help you with that. Let me help you with that. I can be good. I can..."

Sadly, Jason passed out.

13

There was a fruit basket at his bedside with pineapples and oranges and bananas stacked artfully in the middle.

"You could have said _no_."

14

"What kind of a priest are you?" Dick said irritably in between bites of devil's cake. He looked like a page out of GQ. Jason might have been the tiniest bit biased. "You smoke, you swear, you drink." He rattled off, folding each finger until he was left with the middle.

"Classy." Jason snorted, regretting it when his sides pinched.

"I thought your kind couldn't do that—_holy shit_" He dropped the cake container and straddled him, hands landing on either side of his head. "Are you even virgin?"

Dick leered. "You know, if you are, I could help you with that. There's no need to be ashamed. Unicorns are overrated."

Jason considered the offer carefully, pale grey eyes mapping the demon's hopeful face.

"You're not my type."

15

"I'm everyone's type!"

16

The first day back, Jason went shopping. Dick tagged along, a reluctant bodyguard since Steph got the idea that the demon's failed overtures at sex were cute and infected everyone else with her stupid.

"Father"

People greeted him like they were glad to see him, not merely pained that he might ask them to come to service. Assholes. Street urchins waved back, not bothering to pickpocket him for once. It was kind of nice.

"What now?"

Jason asked in resignation when he realized that the grinding noise wasn't going to stop.

"People like you." Dick accused.

"How's that a problem?"

"I don't know yet." The demon admitted. "But I don't like it."

Jason rolled his eyes.

17

Despite their disastrous first hunt, they followed up on other cases.

Over the weekend, Jason and Dick set out to smite a wraith who'd been hanging out at Arkham, sucking the inmates dry. Plenty of prisoners, all trapped in their cells. It was a small wonder there wasn't already a pack of supernaturals.

Then again, he'd been off his game. Maybe the wards weren't working. Maybe some of the guards got the idea they could sell the silver for money. Money wouldn't save them when the wraith came to stick them in their necks.

He should have sent Cassandra but she was too busy with a black dog.

Mostly, he blamed Dick.

"You always blame me!"

"That's because it's usually you!"

Dick's pout was out in full force, more disturbing since he knew what was beneath the paper-thin skin. Something even more beautiful, unearthly, black as a storm and just as deadly, white like a shaft of lightning striking the earth.

He was also breaking the seals.

18

He felt the Hellmouth calling, in his dreams, his nightmares, every waking moment. The swirling vortex on the other side beckoned for him to open.

It would be easy. B would be waiting on the other side. But this was his penance. He was stronger than that. He'd been given the responsibility by his predecessor who had died from a brain aneurysm trying to keep the doors closed.

Jason ground the heel of his hand against one eye. If Dick noticed his fading strength, he didn't comment. But the demon did help him pick up the groceries after a pair of idiots tried to mug him.

"Fuck me." Jason swore when he saw that the eggs were broken.

He braced himself for the usual quip about how happy Dick would be to relieve him of his precious ass stick only _Father, you're wearing so many layers_.

"Father" The demon was uncharacteristically solemn. "You're bleeding."

19

He spent nearly two hundred years wandering the depths of Hell when in the real world; only two years had passed since his death. Sometimes he wondered if it had happened at all and doubted his memories. He brushed a hand against the Hellmouth, feeling the deep throbs like heartbeat or something even base sear into his palms.

"It's a good thing I like you padre, I don't put on a show for just anyone."

Dick was human today, more so than usual, inky dark hair and bronzed skin you couldn't fake with a tan. His demonic nature kept tight under bounds, it was easier to breathe, even when he insisted on getting close.

"I thought you were an incubus. Exhibition's your middle name."

Dick chuckled.

"Oh I'm much worse than that. Don't you think I'm worse than that, Father?"

"Why are you down here?"

"Are we playing that game again?" The demon observed pensively. "That's boring." He dismissed. "How about a different one?"

Jason glowered and Dick elaborated, "Equivalent exchange. You give me an answer and I'll give you one." Dick pulled him away, away from a temptation and into another, a choice between the devil and the blue sea.

He cleared his throat. "So here's the first one. B trusts you with a Hellmouth. Why?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it obvious? As long as I stay here, he can find me whenever he wants. And when I die, he gets the Hellmouth and my soul. It's a win-win."

"You don't think you'll go to heaven?"

"Wait your turn." Jason replied. "So, how long until the safe cracks open and I end up a vegetable?"

20

These days, he sent Cass and Steph on hunts with Dick as back up. He didn't have a choice. He took comfort in the fact that whatever the demon might have been planning, he'd want an audience. Someone to appreciate his ingenuity. He hoped.

The hand overlapping his sternum was hot and for once, he had no desire to push it away.

"You're going to die here, guarding this place."

"It's what I deserve."

"Is it? Self-flagellation is unattractive on you." A cool hand cupped his chin, tilting it back. He tracked the movements dully. His head was in Dick's lap, good _grief_. "I liked it better when you fought." The demon opined. "You are useless like this."

The world was dark and he was back in hell, behind the Hellmouth, at the court. Dick stood beside him, horned with sweeping wings, every inch a prince of Hell, the heir to all that Bruce had built in his name, the proud city under a city, another Gotham.

The silver sank into Dick's chest.

Jason coughed. "Fuck off."

Dick grinned with savage delight.

"Much better."

21

Life went on.

Jason recovered slowly from the bout of whatever life-threatening condition Stephanie had seen fit to inflict on him. Waking up became easier, eating no longer a chore. Though Dick seemed content to play Jane to his Rochester, he eyed the demon with suspicion, his silver knife hidden up one sleeve.

He couldn't hear the Hellmouth and he knew he was in no condition to fix it. But he could feel the demons gathering outside as though coming home to roost. After a long consideration, Jason kicked off his sheets and took his first step.

22

"Father, you shouldn't be up."

"But I need to..."

He was frustrated. He'd just forgotten something, he was sure of it.

"Everything is fine." Dick said pleasantly, behind his eyelids a brief glimpse of the sea.

23

"Why did Bruce send you here?"

Dick grabbed the curl of white hair, rubbing it between his fingers until he had a strand left and let go, burying his nose against his jaws. Jason could feel his rib creak when the demon squeezed.

"Why does B do what he does?"

24

"It was sweet."

"Sweet" Cass echoed faithfully as Jason stared.

"You're talking about a demon, heir to the largest kingdom in Hell, the one who caused all this mess in the first place..."

"And he was very sorry about it. He took care of you, especially when you started acting crazy. It was _sweet_."

Steph waved around her wooden spoon, her hair falling in golden waves behind her. It reminded him of sunlight. He wanted to sit outside.

"What about the demons?"

The blonde frowned.

"What demons?"

25

"You're being unreasonable!"

Jason jabbed his paint brush at Dick.

"I can see demons, they can't. Either they're here or I'm hallucinating. I'm not taking any chances."

"I haven't..." Dick said feebly.

"I don't trust you." Jason said flatly, taking a vicious swipe of red to complete a circle. "I can't."

26

Steph whistled at the sight.

"Now they're really going to think we worship Satan."

27

Cass and Steph were out nabbing a pack of ghouls that had recently shacked up at the city morgue. Dick had gone with them because while ghouls were on the lower end of the totem pole, they could be vicious little suckers. And because Jason had the stamina of an octogenarian these days.

The teacher's drone grated on his ears though in reality, it could be bottled as sleeping aid, a horrifically dry presentation of Gotham history. The kids, already bored, were scuffing their feet on the floor.

I just had that cleaned. He though in dismay before realizing that he wasn't sure. He didn't remember. Well crap. Now he was sounding and acting like a sorry sumbitch with a foot already in his grave. He wondered if anyone would notice if he took a quick nap...

"Hands in the air!"

28

"Seriously? Of all the places in Gotham you idiots decide to hit a church?"

"Shut up." Said the tall one, kicking him in the ribs.

Jason fell over, as limp as a cooked noodle. It was doing wonders for his street cred or the lack of. That was when the shorter one began tearing the place apart.

In a well-coordinated, two-men job, the idiots had taken him, the teacher and 17 odd kids hostage as they searched for valuables. Again, inside a church where the only things of monetary value were twenty or so impoverished wallets, phones and several pieces of jewelry.

The shorter one came back and began screaming in his face.

"WHERE'S THE MONEY?!"

Jason caught his breath.

"Say, how about we make a deal?"

29

His flock hurried out, not a single brave soul attempting to save him in his time of need. Good. Maybe one of them will remember to call the cops after.

The taller one locked the doors.

"Now where's the cash?"

"There is no cash." He said, feeling icredibly zen.

"What?"

"This is a church you assholes, what do you think was going to be in here? Gold candlesticks?" The obvious fidgeting told him that they had. "Un-fucking-believable." He drawled and the taller one seemed discomfited by his swearing.

The short one scowled hard enough for it to show through the ski mask.

"So no money?"

"Zip."

Shorty nodded.

"Okay"

30

The bullet lodged in his heart, a centimeter or two above his heart if he was correct. Of course he was, that was where Brother Blood and his brood cut it out using a rusted blade.

"Jesus Christ Sam!"

"Don't swear in church bro." Shorty said absentmindedly. "Come on, there's got to be something around here."

He sincerely hoped that Dick wouldn't kill them. Exorcism was the worst when the ghost had a bone to pick with you. Though in the past, his presence had been more than enough to shield the entirety of the church, he could feel his strength waning with every second, the monsters of Crime Alley rattling at the windows with their dirty fists.

A pair of hands joined his across his chest, squarish and rough, shying from the cross as though it burned. Dick had never done that. He met the watery brown eyes of a desperate young man not much older than he was, maybe younger, frightened and paralyzed at the gush of blood that seeped past their fingers.

"You shouldn't have come here."

Outside, a shadow raked over the sun.

"Kids these days."

31

One terrified scream later and he was back at the night of his initiation, his joy upon learning that he'd been chosen for a higher calling.

_"It's you. It has to be you. You're special Jay, do you know why?"_

B showed him why. Plucked his eyeballs out and threw them past the veil where he saw all sorts of things, horrible things. He died again and again and again across different universes. He would never stop dying.

Latin poured forth from his lips, unforgiving and harsh. Dick cursed and curled around him, digging his claws in deeper, hiding them both from view with the wide canvas of his wings.

"Don't be an idiot." Dick hissed, eyes a preternatural blue. Sparks exploded in the air, skittering across their skin like miniature lightning bolts. "You'll die."

"You gave me your word." He gurgled.

"B gave you his word." Dick insisted, begging.

And somehow, that was even worse.

He closed his eyes.

His world shattered.

32

Jason felt warm and safe. What more could he possibly want?

When he shifted, he groaned as stitches tugged familiarly at his chest. He could have sworn that it had been fatal.

There was a weight across one arm, the same which shifted to accommodate his bleary state.

"Shh" Dick soothed, dropping tiny kisses down his jaw.

"What the hell happened?"

"Mmph" Dick said as he settled down, throwing a leg over his knees. "You died."

His eyes bulged. Despite his injuries and the sudden vertigo which had him heaving over the bed, he sat up and sorely regretted it. All the while, Dick was muttering gentle nothings in his hair. If that didn't make it to top five creepiest shit he'd seen in his life, he'd eat Cassandra's cooking.

"...but I brought you back so it's okay!"

It was disgusting how much cheer Dick could force into that last word.

He stilled.

"What happened to you?"

Dick looked diminished somehow. Like a laminated painting or a wet photograph. Gone was the hint of gold in his skin, the sharp canines of his teeth, little signs that marked him not quite human.

At the very least, the demon had the grace to look sheepish.

"You know how the set terms and condition said specifically I could not use powers?"

"Fuck no." Jason swore, struggling to get out of bed. "We had a fucking deal! I held up my end. You can't stay here, you're like a curse or crabs or something."

"You're comparing me to a sexually transmissible parasite?" Dick asked, offended. When Jason failed to cease, he begged, "Come on Father, Jason! Jason, please, just until you heal. Please?"

There was a hot starburst of pain burrowing beneath his collarbone.

"Okay, fuck." he groaned, sinking back into the comforters. "Okay."

33

Stephanie made him a cake when he could stay awake past four in the afternoon. He shot her an aggrieved look as Cassandra cut neat squares out of the pink and purple travesty, silently handing him a plate.

"It's good to have you back Jay." Stephanie squeezed as much as she could without popping open his stitches. "Thought we lost you for good this time."

"You know me." He said reassuringly. "I would have come back sometime."

He picked up a fork. "Where's Dick?"

34

It was good that Dick was gone.

The Hellmouth was intact, for however long he lasted in this life.

The glass had been replaced, broken pieces of red, gold and blue, taken as souvenirs by the denizens of Crime Alley.

Robberies happened all the time. Sam and his partner were simply unlucky. He'd grabbed the coroner's reports and had winced at the implications. He didn't think there were enough of the two men to burn even if Cass hadn't gotten there first.

He just hadn't realized how quiet it was after the storm.

35

A week, a month, then two, half a year later, Dick came back.

36

"Morning."

Jason stopped and slowly craned his head towards his left. In the pews, his feet resting against another bench was Dick. He gave a small wave.

"What are you doing here?" He asked dumbly.

Dick shrugged. "What does it look like?"

"I thought you left."

"I did. But only to tell the old man that I'm staying."

B, Dick told B that he was staying.

"Why?"

"Because you're interesting." Dick lied easily and looked away.

The past six months had changed him greatly. Gone was the cocky demon who would have pushed as far across the lines as he could before tiptoeing back. Dick was a demon, something cold and manipulative, enough to reap his soul and all of Gotham's without reason or explanations.

But Dick had also gone back on the deal, albeit to save him but he had broken his word all the same. Demons didn't know the meaning of fair play but they had healthy sense of entitlement and what was owed to them. Dick could have come here only if B had allowed it.

Jason swallowed. "And how long do you plan to do that?"

Dick's eyes flashed, stained blue in the filtered light.

"Until you sign off on your soul or open the gates, whichever comes first."

"That" Jason stressed. "Is never going to happen."

"Well." Dick rubbed his hands together thoughtfully, revealing the swollen wrists beneath his sleeves. "Shall we begin?"

* * *

**A.N.:** I don't know, it just happened. It seems to be an excuse for _everything_ I write these days. I think of this story's Father Todd as the younger, rasher version of the one who appears in Flashpoint. He is a rough around the edges which is how I prefer all Jason Todds :D


End file.
